


history repeating

by phorie



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Caning, F/F, Historical Inaccuracy, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:02:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22020751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phorie/pseuds/phorie
Summary: "I carried out some research," Symmetra says, flicking through a stack of notes. "The current setting seemed to be a good opportunity to experiment.""Experiment," Widowmaker repeats. Her arms twist in the ropes as she looks up at Symmetra. "With what? Things to do in the cellar of a chateau?""Medieval methods of torture," Symmetra says happily.[consensual bdsm, hard-light bondage equipment, dom!Symmetra]
Relationships: Satya "Symmetra" Vaswani/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix
Comments: 9
Kudos: 32





	history repeating

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this kink meme prompt](https://overwatch-kink.dreamwidth.org/679.html?thread=887975)

"I carried out some research," Symmetra says, flicking through a stack of notes. "Nothing too detailed -- I don't think precise historical accuracy is warranted here -- but the current setting seemed to be a good opportunity to experiment."

"Experiment," Widowmaker repeats. Her arms twist in the ropes as she looks up at Symmetra. "With what? Things to do in the cellar of a chateau?"

"Medieval methods of torture," Symmetra says happily.

She ignores the way Widowmaker's eyes widen and continues, "I know Chateau Guillard isn't that old but when you told me the cellar resembled a dungeon, this seemed like the perfect time to do some reading."

She can't read the detail of the expression on Widowmaker's face but she seems to be amused (or at least smiling) when she asks, "Should I prepare to be drawn and quatered?"

Symmetra gives her an answering smile. "Nothing that extreme. I don't wish to cause any permanent injury but some of the devices they used back then were fascinating. They would look very good on you."

Widowmaker doesn't reply to that, shifting position to get more comfortable in the ropes, and Symmetra sets her notes down and walks over to take a closer look. 

While she wouldn't say that she and Widowmaker are friends as such, Symmetra greatly values their sessions together. Widowmaker is beautiful (as well as something of a scientific marvel) and having someone like her under Symmetra's control, even for just a short period, is very satisfying. She's proficient at enduring complex bondage and sustained pain but more importantly, she seems to legitimately enjoy everything that Symmetra has subjected her to so far.

Privately, Symmetra wonders if it's related to the process she went through at the hands of Talon but personal discussions are thankfully not part of their arrangement, which is limited to Symmetra getting to do what she pleases with Widowmaker's body and Widowmaker getting multiple orgasms.

"This is known as 'strappado'," Symmetra tells her. "Or at least a milder version of it." 

The hard-light ropes coil around Widowmaker's arms, binding them behind her back from wrist to elbow. What causes the difficulty is the way her wrists are then raised behind her, forcing her to bend at her waist to relieve the pressure on her shoulders. 

The thick beam of light holding Widowmaker's ankles wide apart is Symmetra's own addition, and she crouches down, stroking her hand along the inside of Widowmaker's leg and feeling the intermittent tremors running through her thigh. 

"The victims would be fully suspended by their arms, causing their shoulders to dislocate," Symmetra says. "It seems extremely unpleasant but this position is a good compromise. Some discomfort..."

She shortens the rope between Widowmaker's wrists and the ceiling with a wave of her hand, and Widowmaker cries out as her arms are wrenched higher. 

"...but a wonderful position," Symmetra continues, giving Widowmaker's upper arms a teasing squeeze. "You're very accessible like this."

Widowmaker's voice is strained when she says sarcastically, " _Magnifique_."

Symmetra smiles. "Your body is exposed and you're unable to shield yourself -- it would be a good position for a caning or a spanking." She runs her hands down over Widowmaker's raised ass and conjures a thin cane of light to bring down across the back of her thighs in demonstration. 

Widowmaker groans, tipping forward in the ropes, but quickly catches her balance when the position pulls on her shoulders. She's still partially clothed, albeit only in a bra and panties, and while it's less practical than Symmetra would like, she's learned from experience how much Widowmaker enjoys being forcibly stripped while they play.

She slips the cane under the back of Widowmaker's underwear, tugging the panties backwards, and Widowmaker groans again, louder this time, when the silky fabric digs between the folds of her pussy.

Symmetra paces around her, sliding the cane along her inner thighs as she thinks aloud, "The bar on your ankles is useful to keep you open for penetration and the angle of your body also gives easy access to your breasts."

She taps the cane against the underside of Widowmaker's breasts, fully aware that the pain will be lessened by the cheap bra. She smiles when Widowmaker winces anyway, dropping her head and trying to squirm away from the impact.

The cane folds itself into a pair of scissors and Symmetra grasps Widowmaker's hair with her right hand as she carefully positions the scissors with her left. They cut through the front of the bra easily and Widowmaker gasps as her breasts spill out, her nipples instantly hardening in the cool air of the cellar.

Snipping through the straps of the bra, Symmetra tosses it to the side and flicks the scissors back out into the cane as she taps Widowmaker's tits again. 

Without the protection of the bra, it's harder for her to contain her noises of pain and Symmetra watches with appreciation at the way her breasts shift and jiggle with every impact from the hard-light cane.

With her other hand, she reaches down between Widowmaker's legs and is pleased but not surprised to find the first hint of dampness in her panties. 

She lands one more slap with the cane across her breasts, just hard enough to leave a mark, and then moves the cane down to rest between her legs.

The cane glows gently, the bright blue lighting up the soft skin of Widowmaker's thighs, and Symmetra watches the way Widowmaker's breathing quickens in fear as the cane rubs purposefully against her pussy.

"How many can you take?" Symmetra asks. "In order to get the vibrator as a reward?"

Widowmaker pulls in a deep breath and Symmetra waits patiently for her answer. 

They've done this for long enough that Symmetra can guess how much she can endure but there's a special kind of satisfaction in allowing Widowmaker this element of control over proceedings.

"Three."

Symmetra nods and withdraws the cane long enough to retrieve the vibrator from the bag at the side of the room. It's a powerful one, shaped almost like a large microphone, and she slides a fresh condom over the head before walking back over to Widowmaker and pressing it to her clit at half power.

Widowmaker bucks in surprise, arms twisting in the blue ropes, but the pressure of the position stops her moving far as Symmetra watches her face for a reaction. From the whimper that escapes her, the vibrator is doing its job well and Symmetra leaves it on for a few seconds longer before swinging the cane up against Widowmaker's cunt in its place.

She screams, legs almost buckling at the agony of it, but Symmetra shoves the vibrator back in place before she can dwell on the pain.

"Fuck," Widowmaker gasps. "Fuck!" 

She exhales, her chest heaving, but she struggles to control her breathing as she pushes down against the vibrator. "Oh, fuck..."

They both know what will happen again before Symmetra allows her to come but the knowledge doesn't seem to lessen the painful shock when Symmetra brings her to the edge once again before landing the cane against her clit. 

Widowmaker yells, her voice echoing off the stone walls of the cellar, and she lets out a choked cry when Symmetra holds the vibrator against her yet again.

Something in French tumbles from Widowmaker's lips but before Symmetra can try to translate, she begs again, in English, "Please! God..."

"You can come whenever you're ready," Symmetra tells her, shifting the angle of the vibrator to nestle just above Widowmaker's clit. 

Her legs tremble, forced open by the bar at her ankles, and she's almost hanging from her wrists as she chases her release. "Please, please-"

The begging is a sure sign that she's close. Symmetra holds the vibrator there a moment longer, until the first moan of pleasure escapes Widowmaker's clenched teeth, and then lands one final stroke of the cane.

Symmetra isn't sure whether it's the cane or the vibrator which finally makes her come. Widowmaker doubles over, feet leaving the floor for a second as she sobs in a mixture of agony and pleasure, and when she finally sags in her restraints, Symmetra's rope are the only thing holding her upright.

"Fuck..."

Wary of causing any actual injury, Symmetra severes the rope of hard-light running to the ceiling and detaches the spreader bar between her ankles before setting the vibrator down. Widowmaker drops to her knees, breathing hard, and Symmetra watches the rise and fall of her chest and the neat twine of rope around her arms with appreciation.

Picking up the spreader bar, Symmetra bends the light particles to fashion it into a makeshift chair and takes advantage of the pause to record her observations on the strappado method.

She's already thinking about adjustments to make next time -- weighted clamps could be very effective -- when Widowmaker finally struggles back to her feet and asks, "What's next? Am I going in the stockade?"

"I considered it," she says, "but I didn't think there would be sufficient food here for me to pelt you with."

Widowmaker stares at her. 

Symmetra smiles. "That was a joke. I thought about stocks but wanted something which allowed more movement. I decided against a gibbet and a ducking stool for the same reason but I can certainly consider them in future if you're interested?"

Widowmaker very pointedly does not say no, and Symmetra makes a mental note of that as she beckons for her to come closer. "Let me take off the rope and we'll try the next one."

The rope unwinds easily and Symmetra concentrates as she reshapes it according to her schematic. Widowmaker watches with curiosity, arms folded over her breasts, but she complies as soon as Symmetra says, "Hold your wrists out. One above the other."

The bottom half of the device locks around her wrists, keeping them atop each other and a couple of inches apart. The top half is designed to fit around Widowmaker's neck and Symmetra lifts her hair out of the way as the hard-light seals itself in place. 

Widowmaker frowns at the restriction. The device is effectively a straight line with three holes for her neck and wrists, and has the effect of keeping her arms trapped in front of her. She can raise her hands up and down to an extent, but can't move them any closer to or further from the bar locked around her neck.

Satisfied that it's secure, Symmetra steps back to admire the view.

"It was called a 'shrew's fiddle'," she explains. "Which I suppose is fairly misogynistic but most things were at that point. The actual ones were made out of wood and were much heavier than this but the position was the same. Apparently they also made a double-sized one so that people could be locked in face-to-face and forced to resolve their arguments."

Widowmaker arches an eyebrow. "How diplomatic."

She tests her range of motion and Symmetra smirks when she inadvertently chokes herself by lifting her hands too high.

"It's simple," Symmetra admits, "and it restricts access to your upper body but I like it. It suits you."

Widowmaker glowers at her but there's no real force behind it. 

Symmetra sits back down and Widowmaker looks down at her bound wrists as she asks, "How do you want me?"

"Naked," Symmetra says firmly. "Take your panties off."

She fails to control her laughter when Widowmaker attempts to comply. She twists and bends, arching one hip up to try to catch the edge of her panties with her fingers, but can't get close. She even sinks on the floor, putting her flexibility to good use as she struggles to reach her underwear, and she's panting by the time she looks up to admits defeat.

"I can't."

"I noticed," Symmetra says, still smiling. 

Widowmaker's cheeks darken in embarrassment but with the yoke around her neck, she can't lower her head to escape Symmetra's gaze.

"You can't use your hands well, can you?" Symmetra says, chiding. "How about your mouth?"

Widowmaker frowns and Symmetra purposefully crosses her legs as she sits on the chair. She's still fully dressed, albeit in a more revealing outfit than she would ever wear in public, and she taps her patent leather boot on the stone floor as she says, "It's dusty down here. If you can't even keep your house clean, you could at least wipe the dirt off my boots for me."

Widowmaker's cheeks flush even darker. Symmetra knows she'll protest if the request is too much but no complaint comes as Widowmaker inches forward on her knees to sit at Symmetra's feet.

Her bound hands knock against the floor when she leans forward to reach Symmetra's boots. Widowmaker curses under her breath, shifting to a less comfortable but more useful position, and Symmetra leans back in the chair as Widowmaker licks tentatively at the first boot.

They're fairly clean -- Symmetra wouldn't have her lick them if there was anything too disgusting on them -- but enough dust has gathered from the stonework that Widowmaker's tongue leaves a clean stripe against the shiny surface. She shifts position again, trying to keep her hands out of the way, and inadvertently rubs dust across her own cheek when she bends back down to her boot.

It's a slow process but Symmetra enjoys every second of it. 

Widowmaker winces and sighs beneath her, uncomfortable in the bondage but not uncomfortable enough to stop as she licks slowly and methodically over every inch of Symmetra's boots. Her face is filthy, smeared with dust, sweat and spit, and the contrast between the proud, well-coiffed woman she usually is and the dishevelled, bound submissive at Symmetra's feet is stark and delightful.

"Not bad," Symmetra says, when Widowmaker looks on the verge of exhaustion. She stretches her legs out, inspecting her boots, and reaches out to clean a smudge of dirt off Widowmaker's cheek. "I don't think we've quite tested the full range of uses for the fiddle but this has been a very promising start."

Widowmaker sighs in relief when Symmetra opens the hinge around her neck. The wrist restraints soften and then tighten again, simply binding her wrists in front of her, and Widowmaker reaches up to touch her sore neck as Symmetra says, "Just one more. A surprise this time."

She points to the nearest wall with the order, "Stand there. Put your nose against the wall and don't move."

Widowmaker's brow creases but she doesn't argue, just crosses the cellar to stand in the designated position. She shivers when her bound arms touch the cold stone but otherwise remains motionless with her face pressed against the wall.

Delving into her bag, Symmetra pulls out the last schematic and an additional supply of hard-light. The last construction is larger, although not overly complex, and she glances over her shoulder at Widowmaker once she's past the halfway point.

"Take your panties off. Don't let your nose leave the wall."

She hears a soft groan but Widowmaker complies, hooking her thumbs into her panties and wriggling them down her long legs. Her hair sways as she steps out of them but she doesn't speak or move from the wall while Symmetra finishes her newest project.

With a final flicker, she sends the last scrap of light across the room to wrap around Widowmaker's eyes and calls, "Turn around and take five steps forward."

Bound, blindfolded, and with no idea what's coming, Widowmaker is unsurprisingly cautious. She jumps when Symmetra takes her hands and she curls her fingers around Symmetra's prosthetic wrist as she asks, "Here?"

"Two more steps," Symmetra says. "I'm going to tie your hands above you."

She does, pulling the rope from the ceiling again, and hoisting Widowmaker's hands above her head. 

She's fully naked now and Symmetra takes a moment to appreciate the long, lean lines of her body and the soft swell of her breasts before speaking again.

"The rope is going to lift you for a couple of seconds," she says. "Stay still and don't panic. I'll set you down again as quickly as I can."

Widowmaker catches her lip between her teeth but nods. She groans in pain when the rope contracts, raising her a few inches off the ground, and Symmetra quickly pushes the contraption into place before lowering her back down. 

"What-" Widowmaker lets out a cry of discomfort as she wriggles but tugs harder against the ropes when the discomfort only intensifies. "What did you-"

The blindfold vanishes with a snap of Symmetra's fingers and Widowmaker looks down in shock at where a raised block of hard-light is resting between her legs. It's tapered at the top, narrowing to a thick ridge which rests against Widowmaker's pussy, and she squirms on it, trying to take her weight on her toes instead of her cunt.

"This was called a wooden horse," Symmetra says, "although hard-light horse is probably more appropriate here. It was designed to cause pain to the genitals when victims were mounted on it. Torturers would apparently suspend the victims off the ground entirely, so they couldn't support themselves on their feet, and would add weights to the victim's hands and legs for additional pressure." 

She tilts her head, watching the muscles in Widowmaker's thighs and arms strain to take her weight. "How does it feel?"

"Sore," Widowmaker says through gritted teeth. She pulls in a breath, moving her hips as best she can, and gives the full answer that she knows Symmetra is expecting, "It feels... I know the edge isn't sharp but it feels like it is. It hurts but..."

"But what?"

She closes her eyes. "The pressure. Against my clit. It feels- It's good." She shakes her head. "Bad but good. I-"

"Excellent." Symmetra can't keep the smile off her face, pleased that her theory has been proven right. "Can you move?"

Widowmaker tugs on the ropes again but doesn't get far, and her feet can't get enough purchase on the stone to lift herself off the horse. "No."

"Not that kind of movement," Symmetra corrects. "It's a horse, isn't it? Can you ride it?"

Widowmaker groans at that but, with the dedication Symmetra has come to love, attempts to move her hips forward. From the way she screws her eyes shut, it's still painful but Symmetra notes with interest the wetness beginning to coat the top of the horse between Widowmaker's thighs.

"Let me help."

Retrieving the vibrator again, she holds it on the top of the ridge, just slightly in front of Widowmaker's pussy. 

Based on the sound she makes when Symmetra turns it on, the vibrations travel well through the hard-light, and she taps the horse in encouragement. "If you can move forward to reach it, I'll allow you to come."

Widowmaker's pupils are wide when she opens her eyes again but she grits her teeth as she looks down at the vibrator. It's maybe three inches away from her and she looks up at the ropes on her wrists with a sigh before taking a deep breath and beginning to move.

Between the ropes and the horse, there's no way for her to reach the vibrator while keeping her toes on the ground. Symmetra watches, silently impressed, as Widowmaker lets out a ragged cry when the horse takes her full weight. She tips forward as much as the ropes allow and Symmetra sees the shudder run through her whole body when the vibrator finally comes to rest against her clit.

"God!"

Widowmaker's shout reverbates off the walls and her eyes are wet when she looks at Symmetra and pleads, "Can I come?"

Symmetra hesitates and Widowmaker begs again, "Please!"

Overwhelmed at the sight, Symmetra can only nod mutely and tighten her grip on the vibrator as Widowmaker's release hits. She arches desperately, grinding down against the vibrator and horse in equal measure, and Symmetra watches, rapt, at the way her body moves, rhythmic and needy and beautiful.

Her moans fade back into words and Symmetra catches her exhausted murmur of, "Please... god, please..."

Symmetra hurries to lower the horse first, sliding it out from between Widowmaker's thighs. The rope from the ceiling is next and she slowly lengthens it as she eases Widowmaker to the ground with care. 

Widowmaker collapses against the stone, flat on her back with legs splayed and chest heaving, and Symmetra peers down at her with concern. "Are you hurt?"

A smile crosses Widowmaker's lips even as she shakes her head. 

The first words which come out are in French but she soon opens her eyes and replies in dazed English, "No. I'm not hurt. I- I'm surprised? That was-" She pauses for breath again, smiling wider. "I can't decide if you would be a terrible torturer or an amazing one."

Never one for settling for second best, Symmetra crouches beside her and teases, "Amazing, I assume."

Widowmaker laughs at that and Symmetra looks over at the now-discarded horse. "I'm pleased my research was useful."

"That's one word for it," Widowmaker says. "I'm not sure I can test out any more for you today though."

"That's fine," Symmetra says. "I already have plenty of data to work with for next time."

It's supposed to be reassuring and she frowns when Widowmaker just laughs again. 

"Happy to help," Widowmaker says. "Are you planning on leaving me here all night?"

"Oh. No," Symmetra says quickly. 

She slips an arm under her shoulders to help her to her feet and lets Widowmaker lean against her as she turns towards the door. "Do you- Is there anything you need?"

"A shower," Widowmaker says. "And sleep. But first, a very large glass of wine."

Symmetra brightens at that and as she helps Widowmaker up the stairs, she says, "I actually did some research on that too. I brought two bottles, one from a vineyard which-"

Widowmaker interrupts her with a soft kiss on the cheek. 

Symmetra's flutter of annoyance about having her research ignored soon dissipates when Widowmaker rests her head against her shoulder and says, entirely sincere, "That sounds perfect."


End file.
